


Doll Maker

by BunnyR



Series: I’m writing more stuff with Neon J cause I simp for a cyborg man [2]
Category: No Straight Roads (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Other, There’s nothing really graphic, This took like a day to write so not that much effort, but it’s still kinda dark, but thank u to the one person who commented on my last post, it inspired me!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26323207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyR/pseuds/BunnyR
Summary: A bit more detail to my last work, An unfinished toy.
Relationships: Neon J/Original female character
Series: I’m writing more stuff with Neon J cause I simp for a cyborg man [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912666
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	Doll Maker

He’s 9. She is one of the most quiet girls in town. And she has gotten her kite stuck in a tree. 

It seems obvious to him that she’s too afraid to ask for help, as she attempts to climb up, only to lose her grip and slide back down. It goes on for a few minutes, before she’s almost in tears trying to get the kite back. She won’t ask for help, but needs it dearly. 

So wordlessly, he walks up to the tree, and pulls himself up, before untangling the kite. She watches him, and the kite drops to the ground below as he jumps out. There are leaves in his hair, and his jacket is a bit torn up, but he doesn’t mind. He simply smiles, and introduces himself.

_“I’m Jay.”_

-

He’s 13. He and Amalita were fast friends after that, but recently, she’s been acting strangely. Blushing when he laughs, looking away when she smiles at him. Twirling her hair on her finger, her telltale sign she’s nervous. So he confronts her, but it doesn’t go as planned. She gets so red, she looks like a tomato, it makes him giggle. But of course, she runs into the forest, to hide from her shame. 

_“Amalita! It’s getting late! I’m sorry I laughed when you were embarrassed!_ ”

The snarl of a wolf cuts him off, and then a scream. 

It’s not easy, fighting a fully grown wolf when you’re less ½ it’s weight, but he manages. It runs away, and Amalita rushes to him. He’s bleeding, of course he is, but he doesn’t care. She helps him back to town, and he notices as they walk, just how the fading autumn sun frames her face amongst her candy blue hair. He blushes. 

-

He’s 17. He has been making dolls since he was a boy, but never good enough to sell, in his opinion. But Amalita adores the little soldiers and princesses. Her birthday is coming up, and he knows exactly what to get her.

It takes a month, but by the time her birthday rolls around, it’s finished. An exact replica of the girl he loves, down to the very strings on her violin. It’s taken forever, but it’s worth it. She’s leaving for the orchestra soon, but she’ll come back, she promises him.

She almost cries when she sees the doll.

-

He’s 21. 

_“This war is such a shame. I don’t know why they think this is a good idea.”_ Amalita mutters as she fixes her fiancés tie. _“You know I feel the same Amalita.”_ He says with a chuckle. _“Well it's just terrible!”_

She has become so much more outgoing since the two were kids. It makes him wonder what their past selves would have thought. 

The studio, now lined with dolls and figurines, feels like a second home to the couple. _“If they really do decide to draft you, I don’t know what I’ll do!”_

_“You have your own career to think about, do you not? I’ll be fine. Besides, do you really think I would pass? Look at these wimpy little arms!”_

The two laugh. 

It’s a shame too. Since the standards were lowered after the opposition won one battle too many. 

-

His squad mates are terrible, he writes to her in a letter. They make fun of him for making dolls, and not in the friendly teasing way, but in the breaking the one doll you’ve been working on to pass the time kind. And he can’t go to his superiors because they just make fun of him too. 

She feels sorry for him, she writes back. Her pianist friend has been letting her stay with him. His wife is a lovely woman. Amalita sends him a copy of her sheet music. It feels like he can hear the sound of her violin when he holds it close to his chest. 

He asks about her performance, and wants to see a recording when the war is over, hopefully soon. He misses her. 

She misses him.

The bullets don’t miss him though.

-

It’s Derek who goes down first. Then Salvador. Then Timothy. One by one, they’re gunned down in that battle, till only Jay remains. He’s alive, but not for long. Bullets littler his arms, his legs. The unfinished figurine is in pieces in his pocket, the torso shattered, leaving the limbs and head with nothing. 

Something is thrown beside him. 

_“Oh motherf-”_

-

_“Can you move your fingers please?”_ the doctor asks him. He tries, but still nothing. It’s been like this for the past week, trapped in a body that won’t respond. They could’ve at least made sure it worked before they made him into… this. 

_“One moment sir.”_ The doctor says, before seeming to realize something. _“I hope this works…”_ the doctor mutters, before an electric pain shoots through his body. He screams, the speakers almost blowing from his “body” as he convulses. The glass around the room shattering from the sheer volume. 

The doctor staggers back, before regaining their footing. _“Can you move your fingers now?”_

-

He hates it, and he hates himself. But he’s a medical marvel. From the brink of death, he was brought back, better and stronger than before. And yet, scientists never stop and ask if the things they do are morally or ethically right. 

A man brought back to serve his country! To help stop this war! Of course, the other side surrenders, before he can even think about stepping foot on the battlefield again. _It’s better this way_ , he thinks to himself. 

He’s interviewed, reported on, and has a camera in his ‘face’ for a solid week before he can make his way home. 

He knocks on the door of his dear Amalita’s. He’s greeted by a shriek of fear. 

-

Amalita hates it. It’s not the boy she fell in love with. His laid back demeanor has been flattened by boot camp. His soft hands now metal and wire. His face, just a memory, replaced with a screen. This thing isn’t her Jay. It disgusts her. Her Jay, replaced with this… this abomination. She holds her young daughter in her arms, and quietly sobs. 

Jacqueline has her father's face. _It’s a shame she’ll never know him,_ Amalita thinks.


End file.
